


Queen and Councillor

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As political tension in Númenor builds, Tar-Míriel's world begins to feel increasingly claustrophobic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen and Councillor

_She was running up the stone steps, up and up, running from she knew not what… she did not want to look behind her. The paving slabs were slippery, slick with water, and she found herself stumbling. The sharp impact of the stone against her palms almost brought tears to her eyes. The ground seemed unsteady, tilting at strange angles. Water was lapping around her knees, soaking into her clothes. She scrambled up, crying out. Suddenly something huge and heavy and cold hit her from behind. Water. It swept her away, her world a tangle of water and air, and she didn’t know which was which anymore, or what direction up was, or where safety lay. Was she breathing water or air? She could taste the tang of salt at the back of her throat, could feel its sharp pain in her nose, the burning in her eyes. Then she was under the water, and there was nothing to stand on, and nowhere to swim. The water was crushing her as she sank, her lungs about to burst. Desperate, she tried to kick her legs, but she had no strength, the water was too heavy, and her body felt weak and useless. Her vision narrowed, her senses shattering as she fell, down and down into the dark, cold sea…_

She awoke with a muffled cry, her heart racing. Just a dream. The same dream that she had had since childhood, and yet, it never quite lost its power over her. She gripped a handful of the bedsheet, the familiar texture of the fabric reassuring. She turned her head, as her husband stirred beside her. She felt a flicker of nervousness. He thought her nightmares were childish, and not befitting of a Queen. She would not have cared especially what he thought, if she did not know from bitter experience that his anger could all too easily spill over into violence…

But all he did was turn over in his sleep, muttering something indistinct. She let out the breath she had not realised she had been holding. She could not ignore the fact that the dreams were becoming more frequent, and more vivid. Her father had been foresighted. He would have been worried by this, she knew. He would probably have known what it meant, and taken action accordingly. But her father was dead, and her husband was king, and she couldn’t understand what the dream was trying to tell her. Water? She was supposed to fear water? But there was water all around, the sea was Númenor’s greatest ally, a constant presence in all their lives. She felt like the answer, if there even was an answer, was within her reach, but she did not know what to think. She sighed. She should probably try to go back to sleep. There was a council meeting tomorrow morning, that she was expected to be present for. She forced herself to relax, and finally she slipped back into an uneasy sleep, dark and dreamless.

The council meeting was long and tiresome. Pharazôn sat at the head of his table, and she sat on his right. On his left sat Annatar, of course. It should be her at the head of the table, she knew. She should be a ruling Queen, rather than a decoration, a status symbol. As it was, she was expected to simply sit quietly, agree with her husband, and look beautiful enough to impress the council and the various visiting dignitaries. Once she had tried to express an opinion, to contribute something to the discussion, but Pharazôn had only placed his hand on hers as though staying a wayward child, and smiled indulgently at her, sharing a laugh with his councillors. Then they had carried on with the meeting as if she had said nothing. She no longer made the same mistake. Now she sat with her hands under the table, balled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. But from the outside she appeared perfectly proper, calm and serene and beautiful, as was expected from her.

The meeting ran on. It seemed a movement had sprung up recently among those least loyal to the crown, with the goal of abolishing slavery. It was generally agreed by the council that this was ridiculous, sentimental thinking. Númenor was a great maritime power, the greatest empire the world had ever seen. How would it function without the slaves? No, their lives were not perfect, and could be brutal. But, Pharazôn declared, his own people wanting to ban the driving force of their empire’s livelihood, the source of Númenor’s prosperity, was at best hypocritical, and at worst downright treasonous.

It was swiftly agreed that the movement was unlawful, and all efforts would be made to stamp it out. Other matters were discussed. She sat there in silence, her smile a stiff mask. 

After the meeting, Pharazôn kissed her hand formally, as the rules of propriety dictated, and departed with his lords, until she was the only one left in the council chamber. Or not quite the only one. As she stood by the closed door, about to leave herself, she felt a prickle in the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and turned around. There was Annatar. She shuddered involuntarily. She had not realised that he had stayed. He could be completely silent when he wanted to. She tried not to let her unease show, holding her head high, her jaw set.

“My Queen.” He inclined his head.

“Lord Annatar.”

“I wanted a word, if you would oblige?”

Her heart sank, but she was trapped now. “Of course.”

His voice was silken, as always, betraying nothing. “It has come to my attention” he said, gliding over the marble flagstones towards her, “that you have not been entirely happy with your life recently. That you have been losing sleep, even…” he stopped just in front of her “…having nightmares. Am I right?”

She swallowed. She supposed there was little point in trying to deny it. “Everyone has nightmares sometimes, do they not? For my part, I have had them occasionally since I was a child, and I am quite able to deal with it myself. Thank you for your concern, my Lord.”

He smiled. “That is good to hear. But your husband has been so very worried about you recently. And you must know that I am  _extremely_  concerned about anything that upsets my King or Queen.”

She stayed silent, watching him. He had begun to slowly pace around her, circling her.

“You do know, do you not, that they are just dreams. That you should not think anything of them? I would not like it if you were to make any…  _rash_  decisions.”

She spoke sharply. “I am not a child, Lord Annatar.”

He looked chastened. “Of course, my Queen, I never meant to suggest…” he stopped circling, pausing behind her. It made her slightly nervous when he was out of her line of vision.

“Know only that my primary concern is for the good of Númenor, and thus for the good of its royal house. And if there is anything you ever want to discuss with me, anything at all…” she felt him lift a curl of her hair that hung down the back of her neck from the elaborate braided style she wore, holding it to the light, inspecting it. She clamped her jaw shut, willing herself not to make a sound, not to turn around or make even the slightest movement, lest she betray herself.

“If there is  _anything_  you ever want to talk to me about, know that it concerns me _intimately._ ”

She knew she would not be able to take much more of this. She turned around, to face him again, and he quickly let go of her hair.

“Of course” she said shortly. “I will bear that in mind. But now, if you will excuse me, I really must be going…” even she could hear the slight panic in her voice, and she hated it. But she pushed open the door with determination.

He bowed low, silently. But as she was crossing the threshold, he spoke again, making her pause.

“Until our next meeting, my Queen. But know that there are many in the court who report to me. There will always be people watching. Entirely for your own safety, of course.”

She gritted her teeth, and swept out of the council chamber. 


End file.
